Christmas Preparations
by Mercury-Moon-7490195
Summary: It takes a lot to host a Christmas party, Combeferre knows. But is he making things harder than they need to be? Ferrejolras


"How's the ratatouille coming?"

"Everything but the tomatoes are chopped and already stewing." Enjolras glanced back, resting the knife on the cutting board. "What about the gougeres*?"

"Going in momentarily." Combeferre hurried the pastries over to the oven, sliding them into the only space left in the oven."Starting the timer….now." He nudged the oven door shut with his foot, setting his phone alarm and putting it with the rest of the timers.

"So then just the tomatoes, then the ratatouille just has to simmer; the turkey's in the oven, the casserole's in the oven, the potatoes are in the microwave, gougeres are baking, Courf's bringing bread and wine and the fruit tart, everyone else is bringing a dessert, the tree is up, garland's up, stockings are hung and stuffed—"

"You remembered the hot chocolate?"

"Yes."

"Candy canes?"

"Yes."

Enjolras diced the last tomato and scooped them up, tossing them into the simmering stew. "Then sounds like all we have to do is set the table and wait for our guests to arrive…And remember to take all of the food out of the oven."

Combeferre snapped, hurrying to the fridge. "The Bûche de Noël," he muttered, grabbing the plate from the refrigerator and pulling off the aluminum foil. Enjolras turned back to the ratatouille, busying himself with the tomatoes as he heard Combeferre stop, sighing loudly.

"Enjolras," Combeferre said slowly, his voice a dangerous mix of low and even. "There were thirteen mushrooms on here."

"Hm?" He straightened, a calm smile on his face. Combeferre stared at him over the tops of his glasses, holding out the carefully decorated cake.

"The meringue ones," he said, running a finger along the tiny row of delicately crafted mushrooms, spread across the top of the log. "I put thirteen on there so everyone could have one….and yet, there are only twelve on here now…" He set the cake back down, leaning on the counter next to Enjolras with an all-too-knowing glint in his eyes. "Care to tell me how that happened?"

Enjolras shrugged nonchalantly, shaking his head. "No idea," he said, grabbing the pepper from the rack above the oven and giving it a few turns over the stew. "Did it fall out in the refrigerator?"

"Enjolras_._"

"Maybe under it?"

"_Enjolras._"

"Yes?"

Combeferre grabbed him by the collar, kissing him firmly on the lips. Enjolras braced himself against the door frame, kissing him back with a chuckle.

"Merry Christmas to you too," he murmured, a twinkle in his eye as Combeferre pulled away, an eyebrow raised.

"Mm." Combeferre licked his lips thoughtfully. "You taste a lot more…sugary…than usual, Enj. Now why would that be?"

Their eyes met. Combeferre stared at him knowingly, his hands still planted on either side of him. He was caught. _Think fast, think fast—_

"Maybe," he said slowly, smiling. "Maybe it's because I'm a little sweet on you," Enjolras said.

Combeferre's eyebrow dropped, his eyes rolling towards the sky. "Get out of my kitchen," he said, turning back to the cake.

"'Ferre, come on—"

"No," He pushed him away, trying to hide the bemused smile on his face. "This is a pun-free kitchen, get out."

Enjolras reached around his waist but Combeferre danced out of his grasp, grabbing the powdered sugar for the cake. "'Ferre, come on, it's Christmas."

"Yes, and for Christmas, I'd like a break from the wordplay, for a change."

Enjolras heaved a heavy sigh, leaning against the refrigerator. "What have you done with the Combeferre I know," he drawled, spinning the magnets in tiny circles across the refrigerator door. "He has been replaced by the dreaded Captain Buzzkill."

Combeferre sniffed. "Captain Buzzkill and I are one in the same."

Enjolras' eyes widened in mock horror. "That's not true—That's impossible—"

Combeferre stopped glancing at him as Enjolras slid down the side of the fridge, falling to his knees.

"Search your feelings," he mused. "You know it to be true."

"NO!" Enjolras leapt to his feet, grabbing Combeferre around the waist and sweeping him into his arms, carrying out of the kitchen.

"Enj, no, put me down!" Combeferre laughed, clinging to Enjolras' shoulders. "You are such a _dork_!"

"Oh hello, pot calling the kettle black," Enjolras teased, setting him down before pulling him onto the couch. "Come on, you can relax for a minute."

"Our friends are going to be here soon."

"And they'd be happy even if we were just feeding them pizza and oreos." Enjolras said, kissing him gently. "Don't worry so much about the details that you don't enjoy the company, my dear."

Combeferre sighed, relaxing in his arms. "I suppose you're right," he murmured, kissing him back.

"When am I _not_ right?"

Combeferre chuckled. "Do you want the long list, or the short?"

"Ok, that's it," Enjolras pinned him against the cushions, his hands slipping under his shirt as he tickled him mercilessly.

"No!" Combeferre squirmed, laughing. "Enjolras, you are absolutely—

"Charming? Dashingly handsome?" Enjolras beamed. "Or are you going for absolutely right?"

"Try _incorrigible._" Combeferre spluttered.

Enjolras grinned, peppering his face with kisses. "People have been telling me that since the day I was born," he said, pressing his lips to Combeferre's. "And if they stop any time soon, I might die of the shock." He stopped, smiling down at him. "In all seriousness, I meant what I said. Try not to worry about it."

"I know," Combeferre said. "I just want everyone to have a good time, is all. And it's harder work than you—"

"It's only hard work if you make it that way." Enjolras said, brushing his hair out of his face. "'Ferre, you know our friends. They'll have fun either way."

"You are right on that account, I suppose." Combeferre leaned up, kissing him slowly. "Have I reminded you how much I love you today?"

"Only once or twice," Enjolras replied. He rested his head against Combeferre's chest for a moment, closing his eyes. "Maybe more."

Combeferre chuckled, running his hands through Enjolras' hair. Their bodies molded against each other, limbs tangling as they pulled closer. Combeferre slowly relaxed, melting into Enjolras' arms. The apartment was warmer than they usually kept it, the heat radiating out from the kitchen and swirling into the living room.

A happy mewl slipped from Enjolras' throat as he leaned back into Combeferre's hands, a smile playing on his lips. "Little bit lower?"

Combeferre obliged, massaging the base of his scalp with steady fingers. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"For what?"

Combeferre mused, smiling. "Is everything too much?"

Enjolras looked up at him, leaning up to press his lips to his cheek. "If it's not, I'll have to thank you for the same," His hand slipped into Combeferre's, squeezing it softly. "Merry Christmas, 'Ferre."

"Merry Christmas, Enjolras."

_"Quand il me prend dans ses bras, Il me parle tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose—" _

Combeferre sighed. "That's the timer for the gougeres."

"No," Enjolras groaned, holding onto his hand. "Don't get up."

"If I don't, they're going to burn." Combeferre said, wriggling out from Enjolras' grasp. "I'll come back as soon as they're on the cooling rack, I promise." He glanced down, a smile twitching at his lips. "You should probably brush that off," he murmured, nodding at Enjolras' sweater.

Enjolras looked down. In the middle of the flag was a sugary handprint, fingers splayed across his chest. Enjolras chuckled. "I dunno, I might keep it," he said. "It fits, in a way." He wandered back out to the kitchen, waiting in the doorway to pull Combeferre back once more. The party would be fun, as it always was. But, at least for Christmas, Enjolras preferred the time before, the quiet moments before the chaos descended, when it was just the two of them together.


End file.
